In Heaven from Hell
by mildetryth
Summary: If Judas gets out of Hell and meets Jesus again, what will happen? I'm not very good in summaries. Just R & R!


**Disclaimer: **I don't owe any of the persons underneath (except Nadir and Mirdan) and the Bible neither.

**Author's note: **this is kind of a sequel of my story called The Traitor, which stands at Misc-Jesus Christ Superstar (some publicity never hurts right?) Which you may want to read too and tell me how boring it is. I'm still working on that one. So, if you liked this one, please go and read that one too (and review (puppyeyes)). If I insult anyone with this story I'm very sorry (not! (maniacal laughter)). Anyway, here we go!

Simon Zealotes looked around while he absentmindedly fumbled his long, blue coat. It was really… empty around here. Empty. It was the only word he could describe this with. It was so empty of feelings, care, love, compassion… And that was what made it scary, he thought, not willingly admitting this place frightened him to death. It was almost as scary as the fallen angel that stood before him. He stood at the other sight of the chamber with the grey pillars, looking as cold and stony as the chamber itself. His face, thought Simon, doesn't know how to feel. And neither does he. It would even have been more comfortable if the angel had had no face at all.

He almost shuddered, but managed somehow to keep his face blank. After him he felt the comforting presence of Nadir, as calm and quiet as ever. It was good he had such a friend with him. At Nadir's side stood, strict and arrogant, Mirdan.

Suddenly a hidden door (no, it was not hidden, Simon told himself, it was power) flew open, and there appeared two more fallen angels, dragging, almost carrying, a dark man along. They threw him at the floor and disappeared again. Not a muscle in their face had moved.

The dark man kept lying on the floor. He didn't seem to be hurt, but he stared at his hands in amazement. He sat up straight, ignored them all and stared open-mouthed at his chest, legs and arms.

Simon took a step forward. "Judas Iscariot?" His voice sounded loud and authoritarian.

The man looked up. He hadn't changed a day, Simon thought with mingled feelings. Even all his wounds were still there. In Heaven every wound was cured and you stayed the way you were the day you died. The last thing seemed to be there too in Hell, but apparently they didn't care about wounds. Judas' shirt was torn apart, his trousers were shaggy and in his neck there was a long, red wound that went all around. Simon tried not to think about what had caused it. He didn't know what to do. A part of him wanted to embrace his old friend. They had been good friends, no matter how much they had argued. Another part wanted to kick him. Instead he watched how Judas looked up and examined them all. He only looked once at the fallen angel, and then watched first Nadir, who didn't seem to mind that, Mirdan, who looked very scornfully, and then Simon himself. Simon held his breath. Would he?... It had been so long ago, and he had died several years after Judas, so he had changed.

He saw recognition come in the dark eyes in the olive brown face. "Simon?" the well-known, rich voice muttered. "Good Heavens, you're looking good. Nice beard."

Simon tried to sound stern while he picked at the little brown goatee. "The Lord of Heaven and Hell has asked for you."

"Heaven and Hell? Good, I've got some complaints about the treatment here." Judas got up and tried to move. Luckily, thought Simon, he had some trouble stiffening a laugh. He didn't know Hell had so little influence on Judas. He felt the appreciation of Nadir and the indignation of Mirdan.

"Follow me." Simon turned around, his blue coat majestically floating through the air. The silver shined on his back.

"Simon?"

"Yes?" He looked around again. Nadir and Mirdan had placed themselves on both sides of Judas. The fallen angel hadn't moved.

"Did you know you had wings?"

Simon turned around, pressing down the urge to laugh. The silver wings on his back rustled.

I looked around. The place Simon and the two angels (at least, I suppose they were angels, they had wings just like Simon, although theirs were pure white) brought me to was beautiful. It shone and had an undefined colour between silver and white. I saw another angel. He stood at the corner of two halls (I don't know how Simon found the way; I'd been lost in two seconds) and watched our little procession coming by. He saw me. He almost stumbled over the white rob he wore to get away, an expression of fear on his face. At first I thought it annoying; but after five other angels all reacting the same way, I started to like it, and grinned openly.

"Are they running away from me or from your face?" I asked Simon cheerful.

He didn't turn to face me, but I think he had to suppress a laugh. "I think from _your_ face."

"No, if there is anyone they have to be afraid of it's that fellow next to me." I turned to my right, were a very arrogant and severe looking angel walked. "Do you always look like that or did you have to study for it?"

The angel at my other side smiled. The right angel looked angry at me. "I am High Angel of the Right Court and have nothing to say to a murderer," he said coldly.

I looked surprised at Simon's back. "And I thought _I_ was arrogant."

Simon's muffled laughter was now very clearly audible.

The white chamber they brought me to was magnificent. In the middle there was a table with a basket with fruit on it and a few round stones as seats around it. The two angels (one called Nadir I believe; he looked very friendly. The arrogant chap called Mirdan.) stood each in another corner. Simon had gone away. I walked over to a giant window and looked outside. I gazed down at the most perfect garden I ever had seen.

There were beautiful trees of every kind of earth and even a few I had never seen before, there were flowers, and animals like I couldn't imagine. And between everything walked white angels, who looked pure and good.

I would have looked longer, it was almost impossible to me to look away, if Simon hadn't come in. I spinned around and saw that he was followed by an even more impressive and mightier angel. This angel had wings of pure gold, and his coat was of a warm red. He looked at me and smiled.

I took a step forward. "Peter?" I whispered.

He nodded, still smiling friendly. He had changed. His usual black hair, which had been almost as dark as mine, had now grey stripes. There were little wrinkles next to his eyes when he smiled. But it was still Peter.

"Don't say _you're_ the guy who wanted to see me."

"No Judas," he said chuckling. His voice was still as warm and rich as ever. "Although I don't mind. No, the Lord of Earth and Beyond has asked for you."

"Oh." I frowned. "I thought it was Lord of Heaven and Hell, but-"

I gasped. In the door, smiling and in a robe like the angels but without wings, _he_ had appeared.

I looked for a moment dumbstruck at him. He couldn't be… They had called him Lord, I remembered suddenly. All those mobs I had called fools were right. He had been the son of God after all. I started to laugh hysterically, not realising everybody but him looked horrified, and then moaning pushed my hands against my face.

I think I fainted. I don't recall anything after that, only my own thoughts: _Can the death pass out? _

Simon tapped with his finger against the table. He sat at one of the stones serving as chairs and looked at the bed in the corner of the room, which Jesus with a simple command had summoned. Judas lay on it, sometimes stirring or mumbling with a frightened voice. Nadir and Mirdan hadn't moved and Peter sat opposite him. Jesus had left because His Father had called Him.

"When do you think he'll wake up?" Simon asked, rather to break the silence than out of interest.

Peter shrugged. "Who knows."

Simon tapped with his finger on the table again. "It's strange. To see him back." Peter nodded.

"You know he's hardly changed? He's even as cynical and arrogant as ever." It was silent again."Why did he do it?" Simon blurted out. "He was the last man I'd suspect!"

"I don't know, Simon. No one knows what he thought."

"Yes you do." Simon bended forward. "You know something, Peter. All the apostles know that. I've never asked you, but you know why, don't you?"

"I do. But I'm _not_ going to tell you, Simon."

"You don't have to. Just-" he looked for a moment at Judas, "just tell me he had a good reason. That he didn't do it for the money. That he cared for Jesus."

Peter smiled. "You know that, Simon. You don't have to be ashamed to be his friend. Jesus isn't."

Simon was silent for a moment. "Jesus's really going to forgive him, isn't He?"

"I believe He already has."

Judas made a violent movement and woke up with a start. He looked around and said: "I should really wake up now. This dream is getting me a little too weird."

Simon chuckled. "I'm sorry, Judas. No dream."

"Too bad. Oh well, doesn't matter so much. Nice seeing you again though."

"It was starting to get really quiet around here."

"Mmm." Judas rubbed over his arms while he sat up straight. "How did it go with you, after I was dead?"

Simon looked at Peter, who nodded. "Well, we all started to spread out Jesus' Words. And then we were all killed because we spread His Word."

"God, nice life did you all have," Judas said surprised.

Simon swallowed a crispy answer and resumed: "I was killed… I think two years after you, when I was staying in Tunis. They were with ten or so. I got a knife in my back." His voice sounded sad. "I didn't manage to kill anyone."

Judas chortled. "You didn't change much, did you? And you, Peter?"

"I survived Simon. I must've been killed ten years after you and Jesus." Simon saw Judas turning his head for a split second. "I was in Rome then. The Romans wanted to crucify me too. I begged them to kill me otherwise, because I said that I wasn't worth dying like Jesus… so they turned the cross upside-down."

Judas gasped. It was silent for some time. Judas was clearly confused. Peter cocked his head aside. "I believe Jesus's coming."

They all stood up, except Judas. He looked quite uneasy, but tried to hide that. Without success. He nodded towards Mirdan. "You there, the boss's coming. Start looking busy." Simon looked away so nobody could see him smiling. Mirdan became red, his dignity was hurt. He was about to reply when the door opened and Jesus came in.

He smiled and gestured them to sit down. "I've asked you already so many times to keep you're seat when I come in."

They all sat down again and Jesus turned towards the bed. Judas' mask had now completely fallen off. There was fear on his face.

"J-Jes-sus," He stumbled over his tongue. "J-Jesus."

Jesus just smiled as reply and walked over to the bed. Judas tried to look down but couldn't turn away from Jesus' brown eyes. He sat next to Judas on the bed. "Hello, Judas."

"J-Jes-sus," stammered Judas, "I'm- I'm so sorry."

And he started to weep, repeating those three words over and over. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Jesus drew Judas towards Him, murmuring comforting words. Judas embraced Him, his arms around Jesus' waist. His shoulders shook. Simon turned away. He hadn't often seen Judas crying, and he still found it an awkward situation. Nadir looked solemnly at the bed, but Mirdan looked indignant that Jesus touched, even looked upon the Betrayer, like he was called in Heaven.

I held him like I had held him the night they came and had arrested him. His hands stroked through my hair and I heard his voice murmuring in my ear. After a while I calmed down, but still clung onto him, burying my face in his chest. I didn't want to think. I listened, eyes closed, to his heartbeat. Heartbeat?...

"Great," I muttered. "First some corps fainting and now I hear a heartbeat. What next?"

His chest shuddered slightly when he laughed. "I missed you, Judas," his voice gently said in my ear.

Thoughts immediately jumped upon me. How could he say that? I was the reason he had died! I pulled away and turned my back to him. I could picture the slightly hurt look on his face. "Judas, please look at me."

Instead I walked over to the window and gazed upon the garden again, not seeing anything. I knew the others had to be really confused, but I didn't care.

"His Lordship should always be obeyed and be spoken to with His full title!" The arrogant chap, Mirdan, snapped. I suppose he meant me calling Jesus 'Jesus'.

"He can call me anyway he likes," he interrupted him.

"Don't temp me," I muttered, trying to sound a little bit more like Judas. I heard everyone (except that Mirdan of course) laugh. There, I thought satisfied. You still can do this. Don't let _him_ know what you're thinking. Act as annoying as you always have.

"And how should I call you, My Lord?" I asked teasing.

"For you I'll always be Jesus of Nazareth."

"Even 3,900 years can't change you, Judas, can they?" Simon grinned, shaking his head.

"3,900 years?" I repeated, feeling awkward. There fell a silence.

"Yes Judas," he softly said. I felt his presence next to me. "A hundred years for each lash I received from Pontius Pilate."

_Jesus of Nazareth_… I closed my eyes, not trying to think of the last memory I had of him. _Broken, bleeding, pleading, lonely, on the floor… asking for me…_

"Serves me right," I coldly whispered aloud against myself, "it should have been more."

"No Judas," he answered. "You didn't deserve that."

"Yes I did!" I snapped. "And I still do."

He decided to change tactic. Funny. His face has always been a mirror of what he thought. "Tell me about it."

I knew perfectly well where he was talking about. "You don't want to know how it is down there."

"Yes, I do. Please tell me."

I looked for a moment in his warm, brown eyes and turned quickly away again. "It's… it's dark. No, not really dark. It's strange. I suppose it's like you suddenly become blind. There's only a big… nothing that surrounds you." I swallowed. "You don't feel you're body anymore. If you want to walk, you try to heighten your leg, but you don't even know if you did it. 'Cause you don't feel if you've got a leg, or an arm… it's terrible." My voice sounded very hoarse. "The only thing you can do is think. Perfect place for that. You got nothing to distract you. That's why it was built, I reckon. You can't- or better, I couldn't think of anything else than- than my crime. I- I kept thinking about- about you." I stopped, for I would start to cry again.

"It's over, Judas," he said friendly. "You're forgiven."

_You're forgiven_. It kept roaring in my mind, like he had shouted it at me. _You're forgiven._ I looked sceptically at him. He _had_ to be joking. But at the other hand, this wasn't his kind of jokes… I started to sweat. No! How could I stand with my decision if he tempted me with this?

Without realising it, I took a step backwards. "No," I said so silent nobody could have heard me. Yet there was a thick silence that pushed upon everyone in the room.

He looked at me like he understood. How could he, I suddenly thought angrily. He never has felt or known like I have! "I'm not angry at you, Judas. In fact, I never was. The decision to put you in Hell was made by my Father. I've always asked Him to take you out of there."

"You can't forgive me," I said mechanical.

"Please, Judas. I know why you did it and-"

"No you don't!" I flared up. "You've never known! You're just so nice and friendly that you didn't see it while it happened right under your nose!"

Simon started, unsure what to do. Peter sadly remained seated, just like Nadir, however he didn't look sad, rather calm. Mirdan was so amazed that he opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish.

I turned to the window again, deep sighs burning in my chest and asked, almost quietly: "Do you love me, Jesus?"

"I love all my disciples, Judas."

"That's not what I meant!" I snarled. "But why do I bother asking?" I resumed flatly, my rage disappearing. "I know already. You don't love me. You love me as a brother. And I- I just loved you, Jesus. And I still do." I didn't look at any of them, and certainly not at him.

"I know that. But I don't see what that has to do with it, Judas. Would you be so kind to explain it to me?" He sounded ever so tenderly.

"Fine!" I almost yelled it at him. "I was jealous. Of Mary." When I said it, I felt my anger boiling. I tried to suppress it, but my voice was full of it when I continued. "Sweet Magdalene. Beautiful, lovely, friendly Mary. The little whore."

"She wasn't a whore," he remarked softly, sounding as cold as he had spoken to me when she had arrived in our group.

"The one who massaged you when you were tense. The one you held hands with," I resumed, like I hadn't heard him. "The one you always smiled at like you never smiled at me. The one who _kissed_ you." I clenched my fists, and when I realised what I was doing, I quickly relaxed them.

"I- I don't want to talk about that again," I said before he could interrupt me. "Let- let's not talk about Mary again. I wasn't as angry with her as I was with you. Be-because you choose her above me."

"It's all over now, Judas."

"No, it isn't." When would he finally understand? "I- I want to stay, Jesus. There's nothing more what I'd want more. But- but I can't. I'm not punished enough."

"Don't you think 3,900 years aren't enough?" his voice asked friendly.

"No. What kind of man betrays the man he loves?"

"I want you to stay, Judas." His voice was slightly pleading and his beautiful eyes lay upon me. I stared at his lips. I tried not to kiss them.

"I- just take me back there, Jesus." Now I was pleading. I was so afraid I might give in after all. That I would stay. And I couldn't do that. Jesus didn't love me. It would torture him and me only more. "I- I really can't stay."

He was silent for a moment.

"Very well then." The sorrow in His voice was almost painful. Simon found it unbearable to listen to it. On the other hand, he couldn't just put his fingers in his ears.

Judas still stared out of the window, his shoulders hanging. Jesus bowed forward and gave Judas a small kiss on his cheek. Simon could see him stiffening under the touch.

"Goodbye, my friend," He said sadly.

Judas shook his head. "No friend. Just Judas. The traitor."

He smiled fondly. "You'll always be my friend." After caressing Judas' cheek for a moment, He walked out the door.

Judas restrained himself for two seconds, but when he heard the door close, he started to sob. He pushed his hands against his face and fell on the ground, moaning over and over: "Jesus-Jesus."

Ta-ta! (Troms) What do you think? I liked writing it. Please review and then go reading my other story! (Maybe I should go in the publicity business) Oh, yeah, I'm not religious, or anything of the sort.


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